Homebound
by i heart clash
Summary: All human: A story of self-discovery for a small-town girl in the big city.
1. Chapter 1

I just moved to Los Angeles eight months ago from Forks, Washington.

And what a culture shock that was. I mean it's only been eight months, I'm still getting used to it.

I've lived in Forks my whole life, it's all that I've known, and it's a big part of who I am. So why, one may wonder, did I move away from the one place I've ever called home?

Well, I graduated from the local junior college almost a year ago, and came to LA to partake in an internship with the Los Angeles Times.

So here I am at one of the most prestigious newspaper corporations in the country. The halls are busy, journalists everywhere trying to scrounge up stories, any stories, filling up all the odd gaps here and there in the paper, people on the phones, trying to dig up the latest dirt on the crime scene at a local 7-11 hold-up, the presidential campaigns, etc. It really is a madhouse in here, a quick-paced and loud environment. Everything I've dreamed of as an aspiring journalist, and here I am.

"BELLA! You are a lifesaver!"

"You got that extra shot of espresso in there right?"

"I asked for a hazelnut latte, Ms. Swan, not toffee nut!"

"Is this soy?"

"Oh! I am absolutely ADDICTED to the new Christmas blend!"

Yes, here I am at one of the most prestigious newspaper corporations in the country, playing barista, and taking up orders. I guess you can say I'm pretty much living the dream.

"I asked for no whip Bells! You know I'm trying to fit into that dress for Jazz's family thing!"

This last comment is directed from my roommate, Alice Brandon.

"Alice I highly doubt you won't be able to zip up that dress just because of a few extra calories from the whipped cream."

This is true. Her metabolism's probably faster than a cheetah on crack.

Moving to Los Angeles has made me feel like I've been aging too fast and I barely turned 23 two months ago. I got so caught up with the "life in the big city" and did not plan the most important things properly, i.e. my living arrangements. Before I answered Alice's roommate ad I'd been living in a motel for little over a month. But after that last cockroach in the shower I knew it was high-time I got my ass a place of my own. Alice was a godsend.

"Bells, you'll be home in time to make sure the plumber comes in to fix the leaky faucet right?"

I nod my head in reply. I'm in a daze, daydreaming of all the good things I expected from the internship. I remember ripping open the letter, ecstatic for my big break. Looking around at all the writers' fluid movements, I am reminded of my place here, and that internship roughly translates into gopher girl.

"Oh good! You know I would have let him in since it is my bathroom and all but this new editor is a real bitch."

Alice has recently turned from gopher girl to editorial assistant. Though she tries to comfort me and tells me it is not at all a glamorous job, it is a big step up. It took her a year to earn her keep. Hopefully, I don't die of starvation by then.

My frequent trips to the copy room make the time pass by ever so slowly. Lunch soon comes and I'm back to passing out subs and sandwiches. How did Alice keep up with this for a year?

As the big hand on the clock turns to three I am out of there! Driving in Los Angeles is a real bitch, especially with all those damned left turn yields, not that I know of course. I take the bus. Honestly, do you really think I could afford a place to live _and_ a car? I'm made of anything but money.

"RRRRRRRRRR," my stomach complains. All I had was a bag of Cheetos for lunch. I glance at my watch. The plumber is coming at 3:30 and it is now 3:32. Damn. And with all these stops we're making I doubt I'll make it there by four.

I close my eyes and lay my head against the window anticipating the long ride to my temporary home.

"GRRRRRRRRR," my stomach yells all the louder. Well if I had enough money to afford the bare necessities like FOOD for example, then maybe I would have been able to splurge and buy that Snickers bar in the vending machine earlier. Lucky for me I get a free meal every shift from waitressing at the bistro around the corner from my apartment. Unfortunately, tonight is not a night I will have the privilege of fine dining, or dining at all. I suppose I could take up Alice's offers of take-out and the like, but I'm already a big enough mooch as it is. I could barely afford rent last month. I still owe her a bill.

I doze off for a few minutes only to be disturbed by an extremely cold liquid penetrating through my good white blouse.

"HOLY SHIIIIIIIIT!" I screech, bumping my head on the window as I attempt to sit up.

"Fuck," I say as I grip my aching head. I take a peek at the culprit drink spiller and see that he can be no older than four or five.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he starts repeating after me, singing it along to the tune of the French nursery rhyme Frere Jaques. Great. Now I'll look like the guilty party here trying to seduce this little boy with my wet, see-thru blouse, teaching him dirty words.

"OLIVER! OLIVER! What are you…oh crap! I am so so so SORRY!" A man says taking the swearing, jumping boy off the seat next to me.

"I swear I was just at the front of the bus trying to scrounge up some change for the bus ride and I turn away for one second and Oliver just disappears! He's been doing that all day! I don't know how my brother keeps up with him."

I am temporarily mute as I stare at this man open-mouthed, my string of profanities for giving him a piece of my mind, forgotten.

He is really one beautiful piece of-

"Oh shit! And your shirt! Really, I apologize." His ranting disrupts my thought and I blush hoping it goes unnoticed. He continues speaking frantically, reaching into his pocket, taking out a tissue or napkin or something. I am not kidding when I say that he begins _patting my front side dry_ with the napkin.

"…really! I'll buy you a new shirt or something! How much do you…oh shit!" he swears again, realizing that he's molesting me. His hands fly away from my chest and behind his back.

'_No!'_ I think, '_don't stop!'_

"Unk-uh! Unk-uh Edwad!" the curly-haired boy screams from behind me.

My face is probably red as a cherry now.

"Oliver! Settle down! I told you I didn't want you eating that extra cotton candy at the park! _Please_ try and stay quiet! Just for a half an hour! Until we get home! Then we can play anything you want!" the man tells the boy, putting a finger to his lips to silence him.

"Okay," the little boy whispers back intensely, imitating the man's actions, putting his finger to his lips.

"Really, I am truly sorry. I've been sitting my nephew all day and usually he's not this hyper and it's my fault for giving him the extra sugar, but really, how can you say no to a face like that?" he asks me.

We both look back to his nephew, making faces and sticking his tongue out.

"OLIVER!" he whispers vehemently. "_Behave!_"

"So how much do you want for the-" I cut him off.

"No. It's not a problem at all, I promise. Sure, this thing happens all the time. And I agree with you, it is impossible to say no to a face like that," I smile, reassuring the man that no harm, no foul.

"Are you sure? At least let me pay for dry-cleaning. I-"

"Honestly, I assure you," I tell the beautiful man, patting the sticky lemonade off my blouse. "It is entirely okay. I'm just trying to get home."

The bus comes to a halt. I look up.

"Here's my stop," I say reaching for my bags.

"Here's my card," the man says, placing it in my hand. "Call me when you need that new shirt, or let me know about that dry-cleaning bill," he says in all seriousness.

I blush, at the warmth that consumes my hands from the gentleness of his own. I snatch it back and he slightly frowns at my gesture.

"Th-thanks," I manage to get out, staggering to the front of the bus.

I put my belongings down, recollecting myself, as the bus doors close.

As I begin gathering my things again, I see the blonde, curly-haired boy waving profusely from the back of the bus.

Smiling, and shivering slightly from the cold air hitting my shirt, I begin to walk the remaining block on my journey toward home.


	2. Chapter 2

I turn on the light to my humble abode as I stumble through the door, feet aching having just climbed five flights of stairs. It is now precisely four-thirty and no plumber in sight to fix the leaky faucet. I exhale loudly as I make my way to the bathroom to inspect the damage of my ruined blouse. I unbutton my blouse through its yellowed stickiness and gaze at my reflection in the mirror with tired brown eyes.

My tousled brown hair and the deep purple bags beneath my eyes make me think that I have looked a little worse for wear and I shake my head to rid myself of the memory of my dreaded finals week. Upon closer inspection of my eyes I can almost see the crow's feet threatening to suck away at my youth and I'm reminded of the three witches in that novel Stardust with the impending doom of old age and ugliness hanging over their heads. Anxious to be relieved of the grime, dust, and lemonade of the day I strip myself of the rest of my clothing and turn on my shower letting the heat of the water rid the tenseness of my sore limbs.

Soon after my soothing soak in the shower, the cold water signaling its inevitable end, I gather my dirty clothes to take to the twenty-four hour cleaners later in the evening. I fold the blouse and take out whatever remaining items in the pockets of my black trouser pants. I feel a small piece of thin cardboard and remember the beautiful man and the horrendous incidents leading to the meeting of said man.

I glance at the creased business card.

"**Edward A. Masen**

**Freelance Photographer"** the card read.

It then provided his number and a website to access some of his work.

I turn on my laptop anxious to see his photography and maybe learn a little about him. After all, Alice said her section was in need of a new photographer to replace the one who recently got fired for some pretty risqué photos of him and his boyfriend in the print room.

I laugh at the memory of the look on the section editor's face upon discovering this.

Shaking my head, I type in the URL of the website on Firefox. Immediately, various album titles pop up along with little previews of each album underneath each name. I click on the Album entitled "Masen-Hale Wedding," which has a preview of a close-up of what I assume to be the ring adorned hands of the bride and the groom. I look at the name again: "Masen-Hale Wedding." So the fabulous Mister Masen's married, huh? Well, that's not too surprising I suppose. The man _is _quite ravishing. So much for wishful thinking.

The photos appear and I click on the first one. The image captured is of the traditional bride and groom, with the hands of the groom and bride joined to show off the rings, set amongst a background of what seems to be a vineyard or winery of some sort. I examine the profile of the rather robust groom, letting out a sigh of…what was that? Relief? Relief that his head if full of rich brown curls, rather than an alluring shade of bronze. I shake my head ashamed of this silly giddiness I'm feeling. I haven't felt this way since the eighth grade and my stupid infatuation with Kirk Cameron.

I turn my attention back to the photograph. I'm not joking when I say these people are _gorgeous_. They're simply stunning, which makes me wonder if perhaps they're some European movie stars. There is a sense of familiarity I feel when looking at the curly-haired man and the woman with long, corn silk hair.

The following photos capture the elegance of the landscape and the beauty of the people within them, the happiness radiating from each photo almost tangible. Admiring each photo, I inspect one with three men, one of whom I am positive is Edward. The three men hold a sort of an old Hollywood glamour and are all sporting mega-watt smiles. I can't help but feel envious of this man, Edward, and all the people in the photos. Marriages usually inevitably lead to divorces one day or another. Promises are never kept; just ask my father, Charlie.

Sighing, I exit the website, shutting down my laptop, waves of depression feeding to my current discontent. All this thinking's giving me a headache. I lie on my twin bed, close my eyes, and will myself to sleep on a cloudland of my childhood dreams of a house along the beach.


	3. Chapter 3

"Bella," I hear through the darkness.

"Bella," it echoes again, softly, cautiously.

I open my eyes slowly and see the outline of my roommate's face.

"Bella, I'm sorry to bother you. But you were talking in your sleep about lemonade and leaky faucets, speaking of, my faucet's still leaking. Did the plumber come?"

I turn on the lights in the slightly dimmed room, checking the clock to see that it is now six in the evening. Perfect, one measly half hour nap.

"No, Alice, I'm sorry. The ride back was longer than I estimated. I'll call in the morning to reschedule."

"It's alright. I'll do it," she replied. "Are you feeling alright, Bella? You don't look so good."

"Well, thank you for your insight. I'm feeling fine actually. I-"

"RRRRRRRRRRR" my stomach nags.

"Bella, have you been skipping meals again? You know that's not healthy. I ordered some-"

"Thanks _mom_," I interrupt making my way to the kitchen, "no but I'll grab something on my way out. I have to go to the cleaners and-"

I don't finish my sentence because upon walking into my kitchen I see Alice's boyfriend as well as the little boy from the bus earlier today. He lifts his head at my appearance, squints his eyes, and as realization sinks in that I am the poor victim of his drink-spillage, he smiles and begins stringing the new vocabulary he learned from the bus incident, this time, singing it in tune to Old MacDonald Had a Farm.

"Here a fuck, dare a fuck, ebrywhere a fu-"

"OLIVER!" Jasper snaps at the boy.

I smile, laughing at the scene before me.

"Hey Jazz," I greet. "And hello to you Oliver. We meet again."

"Again! Again!"

"You two know each other?" Jazz asks.

"Why yes," I reply. "This little man is responsible for the lemonade stain on my good white blouse," I say. "Which is the reason why I plan to go to the dry-cleaners, this fine evening."

Oliver laughs and points at me, "Hahah! Dat was FUNNY!"

"What's all the commotion in here?" Alice asks.

"It looks like Bella here is the girl who Oliver spilled his drink on the way home this afternoon," Jasper concludes, laughing.

"Ah, so you're the girl who's charmed our Edward, hm?" Alice presumes a glint in her eye.

"Edward?" I ask, "Edward Masen?"

"So he _did_ introduce himself," Jasper says. "That liar."

"He didn't so much introduce himself, as he did give me his business card," I said, intrigued by what Alice meant when she'd said "_charmed our Edward_."

"So what do you think of him?" Alice asks. "Handsome fella, ay?"

"Well I did not have much time to form an opinion of him," I lied, "seeing as how I was fretting over my good white blouse, my _only_ white blouse!"

"Oh hush," Alice says, "I told you, you need at least two of everything for such occasions as these."

"Well," I say trying to end this interrogation before it begins, "there's no use in crying over spilled lemonade. What's the little man doing over here anyhow?" I ask looking at the curly-haired boy who seems very intent on his coloring.

"Well, his mom and dad have a fund-raising event tonight, his uncle is taking the photographs of said event, which leaves Uncle Jasper and Auntie Alice," Jasper fills me in.

"Bella?"

"Uh…Bella?"

"Oh fu- I mean crap," I say realizing I'm staring at Jasper with wide eyes recognizing his blue eyes and blonde hair from that photograph on Edward's website. "Masen-Hale Wedding," Jasper _Hale_, the bride's brother? I don't know why I didn't see it before. _Ha, you know why Bella. Edward's looks too distracting for you?_

I shake my head. _Shut UP_, I tell my conscience.

"Sorry," I say, "I've just been in a daze these past few days."

"No, Bella, what you're experiencing here is hunger," Alice informs me. "Look, we ordered some Chinese food. I bought an extra carton of chow mein just for you! Jazz, tell Bella to eat something."

"Bella, eat something," Jasper echoes with a sheepish smile.

I grab an apple from the fruit basket, rub it on my tee shirt, and take a bite.

"There," I attempt to say with my mouth full. "Happy?" I ask, wiping the juice dripping down my chin with my arm.

Alice sighs and shakes her head, defeated while Jasper sits with Oliver; a new found fascination with the child's coloring and with what seems to be a smirk on his face.

"GRRRRR" my stomach gives me away once again as I struggle to cover it with my arms as if it would lessen the noise.

"Well," Alice says with a smirk of her own, "that makes two of us."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I blush embarrassed, "I'm going to the dry cleaners. Need anything washed, dear?" I ask my roommate.

"Nope, I'm good! Thanks hon!" she replies.

I head out after placing my laundry basket on the wagon I use to cart things around.

As I lifted it into the wagon I couldn't help but think how frigging heavy the thing was. I really don't have that many clothes unless Alice decided to throw a few thousand items in their last minute. Shrugging it off, I see the elevator is now up and running. Ah, so I do have _some_ good luck. Upon thinking about my good luck with the elevator I remember the fortune cookie I snuck from the table when Alice wasn't looking. Not that she'd mind if I took it of course, I just didn't want to give her the satisfaction of finally seeing me eat her food.

I rip the plastic open and break apart the cookie, stuffing both halves into my mouth anxious to read my fortune.

_**Love is like wildflowers...it is often found in the most unlikely places.**_

Love, huh? I scoff. Who's to say what love is? I've never believed in love between a man and a woman unless it's between a mother and son or a father and a daughter. It doesn't exist. People mistake lust for love and in the end when the lust wears off over the years; they marry for a sense of security. But nothing feels secure anymore.

I toss the fortune as the elevator reaches the ground floor and walk the three and a half blocks to the local coin laundry. There, I walk to my usual washer and begin the separation of colors and whites. I reach into my basket and begin humming _Frere Jaques_ trying to find a good pace and rhythm in which to do my laundry.

I laugh quietly to myself thinking of a certain curly-haired boy singing that exact same tune, though, not as child-friendly as the nursery rhyme goes. As I continue on humming I swear I can almost hear him too.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," I hear in hushed tones singing. I look around, admittedly a little freaked by this. I see an old lady giving me a weird look, whispering to her husband and I avert my attention back to my laundry still hearing Oliver's singing voice in my head which only gets louder and louder making me think I am seriously in need of some therapy. Crap, that's going to put an even bigger, unnecessary dent in my wallet.

And as the volume of his voice raises and the stares increase toward my direction I see what I _thought_ was a yellow top of Alice's, but is really the blonde curly head of hair of a certain lemonade spilling bandit.

I take the pair of gray sweats revealing to me none other than little Oliver Hale. He stops singing, frozen at finally being found. I laugh at my discovery as my worries of being admitted to the nuthouse dissolve.

Oliver begins to join in my laughter and he crawls into my arms and buries his face in my hair and I feel the moisture from his eyes as they dampen the shoulder of my sweater.


	4. Chapter 4

"Sh, Oliver," I say trying to calm the boy down.

"Sh, it's okay," I say again.

"Are you mad at me?" he asks. He takes his face away from my shoulder and reveals his pouting, tear-stained face.

"Of course not, sweetie," I say. Edward was right, you _can't_ say no to a face like that.

"Why'd you hide in my basket?" I ask.

"Cause," hiccup, sob, "cause I's wanted to come."

"Sh," I say soothingly, patting his back. "You know if you had just asked me I might have said yes," I tell him.

"Really?" he asks. "Cause, cause Auntie Awice said you's gotta do waundry on your own."

"Well," I say, "next time come straight to me to ask me rather than your Auntie Alice."

At this he nods his head and I place him down on the ground.

I bend down to face him at his eye level and ask if he's willing to help me with my laundry, and again he nods vigorously, smiling, happy to see that he's of some usefulness, or perhaps just glad that I'm not mad at him after all.

I tell him he can help me load the colors in the wash and he's all for it. While we're sitting waiting I buy a pack of Skittles from the vending machine for us to munch on. As he goes to sit in front of the washer to watch the loads go round, I take the opportunity to call Alice from the payphone.

"HELLO?!" she answers frantically.

"Alice-"

"OH MY GOD! BELLA! I CAN'T FIND OLIVER! OH MY GOD! ROSALIE'S GOING TO KILL ME!"

"Sh, relax. I-"

"BELLA! HOW CAN I RELAX?! I'M GOING TO BE A HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE MOTHER! JAZZ IS OUT SEARCHING EVERY FLOOR AND-"

"ALICE!" I say raising my voice to match hers. "I HAVE HIM!"

She lets out a big sigh of relief, "You, you do?" she asks. I can tell she's been crying and after discovering that he's okay a fresh wave of new tears overcome her.

"Sh, Alice, sh. He's right here with me. I guess he somehow snuck into my laundry basket before I left. I'm just wondering why-"

"I went to go take a call in my room and I left him with Jazz to watch Finding Nemo, his favorite, and I guess Jazz dozed off and when I came back from talking to that bitch editor I see Jazz by himself, no Oliver in sight!" she explains.

"Well, tell Jasper that he's safe, he's with me alright? Now as for you I want you to _relax_ and take a nice, calming soak in the tub. Listen to some of that whale music you love so much and we'll be back when we're finished here, okay?"

There's silence on the other line and a sniffle here and there.

"Alice," I say, "are you nodding your head?"

"Yes," she says, sniffling. "Thank you so much Bella. You have no idea how relieved I am. And you know how I always think the worst of things, like what if he got kidnapped or something? I don't know what I'd do-"

"And you don't have to worry about that now do you? Now when Oliver and I come back I better see you all pruny from your bath, alright? I'm going to go now. My first load's almost done," I say quickly.

"Okay," she exhales. "Thanks so much Bells," she says before hanging up.

I turn back to the washer to see that Oliver's not there. _FUCK_, I think.

"Be_lla_?" I hear.

I look down to see him standing below me.

I let out a sigh of my own, putting my hand over my chest to calm my rapidly beating heart.

"Am I in twouble with Auntie Awice?" he asks pouting.

"No," I say trying to ignore his puppy dog eyes, "but I just want to let you know, you shouldn't wander off like that. Auntie Alice and Uncle Jasper were really worried about you. They were scared something bad happened to you."

"Someting bad?" he whispers. "Like what?"

"Like monsters coming to take you," I say trying to let him understand that there are bad things and bad people out there, and also trying to prevent him from wandering off again.

His eyes widen at my reference to monsters.

"_Monsters_?" he asks. "Like da ones in Unk-uh Edwad's scurry books?"

"Just like those ones," I say not really knowing what I'm agreeing with.

"Come on," I say taking his hand to retrieve the first load.

"So," I ask once we put the second load in, "how old are you?"

"I'm dis many," he says putting four fingers up. "I turned four in Oct-oh-bur," he says pronouncing each syllable. "Mommy and daddy got me a bike, Auntie Awice and Unk-uh Jazzpuh got me a scooter, gramma and grampa got me moneys for my cahwedge funs (college funds), and Unk-uh Edwad took me to Disneywand!" he says ecstatically.

"Disneyland, huh?"

"Yup! To see Mickey and Goofy and NEMO MY FAVEWIT!" he says clapping cheerfully.

"Juss keep swi_mming_, juss keep swi_mming_," he sings. "Unk-uh Edwad teaching me how to swim like Nemo," he adds.

"You spend a lot of time with your Uncle Edward?" I ask.

He nods his head energetically, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"I'm hiz pardna in crime," he whispers, a hand cupping his mouth.

"He tells me all hiz see-cwets (secrets) cause I'm hiz bess fren!"

"Lucky you," I say.

"Like too-day on the bus!" he continues. "He sayz the lady I spid (spilled) my wemonade on, you," he points to me, "is da most wovewy (lovely) wady he'z seen. Den I aksed if he would take pichures of you cause he takes pichures of pwetty tings! Iz hiz job!" he tells me.

I blush all the way to my toes upon hearing this.

He laughs at my reddened face and puts his tiny fingers on my cheeks as if he could wipe the color away. He smiles widely and I mirror it, his smiling is contagious.

"He aksed me if you would caw (call) him and I said I dunno. I toad (told) him if I were you I would caw cause he'z a fun unk-uh. Are youz gonna caw him?" he asks eyes wide, intent on my answer.

"If I called him what would I say?" I ask.

"Dat he'z a fun unk-uh! Da bess unk-uh in da word (world)! Den maybe you can aks him if he wants to pway wit you. His favewit's cops and wobbers," he grins.

"And who does he play, the cop or the robber?"

"Da wobba!" he says enthusiastically. "He'll stea-luh you away wid him!"

**Honestly, is this story worth continuing?**


	5. Chapter 5

"How owd (old) are you, Bells?" Oliver asks on our walk home.

"I'm four too," I tell him smiling.

He laughs. "You'z big fo a four year owd!"

I laugh along with him.

"You'z si-wy (silly)! I wike you," he grins.

I look back at him wearing my pink sweater to keep the chills away, riding atop of the newly washed laundry, on the rusty red wagon and smile.

"I like you too," I tell him.

He falls asleep soon after and I'm careful not to wake him as I turn the key in the lock of the apartment. However, I barely turn it before the door is unlocked from the inside and swings open to reveal a robe-clad Alice.

"BELLA! I'M SO HA-"

"SHH! SHH! SHH!" I say, fretting over the little boy sleeping. I put a finger over my lips and point to the sleeping form in the wagon before her squealing can disturb him.

Her mouth makes an "O" and she lets me in careful not to slam the door shut. I see Jasper sitting on the couch as well as the two people who I assume to be Oliver's parents. I look at my watch to see it's eleven-thirty. As I make my way over I see a pot of coffee on the table as well as five cups surrounding. At my entrance the three look up.

"Bella," Jasper says, "this is my sister Rosalie, and her husband Emmett. They're Oliver's parents."

"Hello, how do you do? I'm sorry about what happened earlier. I really hope tonight doesn't affect his sleeping patterns," I tell them.

"No worries," Emmett says. "As long as he's safe and he's here, that's all that matters," he smiles reassuringly.

"Yes, thank you so much for watching him," Rosalie says, her eyes a little red. "He's always wandering off like that and it is so dangerous and so frightening," she admits. "When we get home we'll have to have a talk with him."

Not really knowing how to respond, I smile sincerely hoping to show some empathy and see the genuine distress on their faces from their son's actions. I hear a knock on the door and Alice goes to answer it.

"Hey guys. Sorry I took so long. I had to walk all the way to-" Edward stops, a package of sugar under his arm, upon coming into the living room to see all of us there. He looks at me and stares causing me to blush under his gaze. I look down and break eye contact. I see Alice's bunny slipper clad feet and feel her elbow me in my ribcage.

"Bella," she says coolly. "This is Edward, Emmett's brother, Edward, Bella, my roommate."

I look up.

"The girl from the bus," he says almost to himself.

"Hello," I say awkwardly, sticking out my hand to shake his in greeting.

He takes it and as our palms meet a shock of static or something causes us both to jump back.

"Sorry," I tell him. "I just came back from the dry-cleaners. It's probably that static cling or something," I say sheepishly.

He smiles and nods his head in reply.

"So how much do I owe you for that?" he asks.

"Pardon?" I say entranced by his gaze.

"How much do I owe you for your dry-cleaning bill?" he asks again.

Realizing what he's conveying, I shake my head.

"I told you it's fine," I say, blushing.

"What are you two talking about?" Emmett asks.

Before Edward or I can explain ourselves, Alice jumps in.

"Oh, Bella is the girl who Oliver spilled his drink on in the bus this afternoon."

Emmett smirks. "Ah, so you're the one who-"

"Who Oliver spilled his lemonade on," Edward finishes for him. "I think we've already established that, Em," he says giving his brother a stern look.

"Right," Emmett says, still smiling making me think that there's some sort of inside joke I'm not a part of.

"Well, Bella thanks again for watching our Oliver for us," Rosalie says. "We really appreciate it. Emmett, we've better get going," she tells her husband. "Thanks Alice, Jazz. We'll see you tomorrow Edward."

Emmett goes to retrieve his son from Alice's bed, attempting to take the pink sweater off, which Oliver clings onto tightly.

"It's alright," I tell Emmett at his failed attempts. "You can return it to me later," I smile.

"Thanks Bella," he laughs. "I guess he has a strange attraction to your clothes."

Soon after Rosalie, Emmett, and Oliver leave, Jasper and Alice retire to her room after I assure her that I'm well able to clear the table and wash the coffee cups and the pot.

"Do you need some help?" Edward offers.

"No, I've got it," I smile, balancing four cups and saucers in my hands to place them in the sink.

"Do you always turn down help?" Edward asks again, smiling.

"Only when I'm sure I don't need it," I tell him.

"Humor me, then Bella," he says. I love the way my name sounds coming off his tongue.

"Do you mind passing me that cup over there?" I ask him giving in.

"It would be my pleasure," he bows slightly; a goofy grin on his face, which I'm sure, reflects my own.

He comes to stand by me as I fill the sink with hot water and soap.

"How about I scrub and you dry?" I ask.

"Fair enough," he replies.

"Is Oliver always that…lively?" I ask him.

"Usually," he answers. "He's always so energetic. He can talk for days," Edward laughs.

"I know," I say, smiling.

I see Edward's hands stop drying in my peripheral vision.

"What did he say?" Edward asks, anxious.

"Just that you two are the best of friends and that he's your partner in crime," I laugh.

He laughs as well.

"And that he knows all your secrets," I finish.

He stiffens.

"Care to share any beans he may have spilled?" Edward asks, clearing his throat.

"Just your opinion of me on the bus and if you thought I'd call or not," I answer truthfully, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Sensing his nervousness, I give him a playful shove.

"You know I'm beginning to think that you use cute little boys as a way to get you on some hot dates," I say laughing.

Edward laughs along, relaxing.

"And?" he asks.

"And what?"

"Did it work?" he asks grinning foolishly.

I laugh at his attempts at swooning me and internally applaud them.

"Maybe…" I say, unable to keep the smile off of my face.

"So what about tomorrow night?"

"What about tomorrow night?"

"Are you available to join me for dinner?" he asks. "I know this great bistro! It's quaint and secluded and has all these different rooms you can choose to sit in and the tea-"

"Bistro Veronese?" I ask.

"Yep, the one and only. Have you been there?"

"I work there," I tell him. "In fact, I'm working tomorrow night," I frown, disappointed.

Aware of this, Edward tells me we can have dinner another night.

"I'd like that," I say.

"Me too," he says smiling, "Me too."

After we finished in the kitchen it was well after two in the morning. We make our way to the door and I find myself displeased at the thought of his inevitable departure.

"Well, I'm sorry to have kept you up so late Miss…miss?"

"Swan," I say.

"Swan," he repeats, "Bella Swan," he smiles again, as I mirror his expression.

"You know," he says, "I honestly can't think of the last time I've smiled this much. My face feels like it's going to get stuck this way forever," he admits.

"Don't worry," I tell him convincingly. "It looks good on you," I say blushing.

He opens his mouth and looks as if he's about to say something.

"Well…" I say prompting him, eyes wide.

"…good-bye," he finishes. "I'll call you," he says as I open the door. I give one little wave as he walks backward to the elevator and finally shut the door. I let out a little squeal of delight as I lean against the door and laugh at myself for being so girly.

All these emotions running through me make me feel so overwhelmed, but to tell you the truth, I like it…a lot.

A knock at the door, breaks me from my reverie, which makes me jump and causes my heart to leap.

I look through the peephole and see Edward standing there, combing his hair back with his fingers.

I smile like a maniac and open the door.

"So it turns out that if I want to call you, I kind of need your number…"


	6. Chapter 6

After only two hours of sleep I wake up to the annoying ringing of my alarm clock.

It's five'o'clock in the morning and I have to be at the bus stop by 5:45, Starbucks at 6:00, and finally the office to distribute the coffee. Same old, boring routine.

I rise groggily and go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. As I'm rinsing, the memories from the previous day flood my mind and I think of Edward. I get dressed and look in the mirror. Black work shirt, black slacks, and black boots. I look like Johnny fucking Cash.

_Off to a funeral_.

I think of the long day of "interning" ahead of me.

_Well, something like a funeral_, I think.

_My funeral._

--

"Hey Todd, can I get the usual order?" I ask the barista at Starbucks.

"Sure thing, Bella," he replies, marking all the cups.

He smiles at me sympathetically and I know what he's thinking: what a suck ass job for the poor girl.

I find an empty table in the bustling café and take a seat, still drowsy with sleep.

Just a couple minutes while I wait for the drinks I think to myself and lay my head down on the table. I shut my eyes. Every little bit of sleep counts.

"Be_lla_! Be_lla_!" I hear someone calling my name.

I lift my head and rub my eyes. I look up to see Oliver running, a glass of milk in his tiny hands. I stretch my arms wide to give him a hug, which I receive but only after he spills the milk all over my shirt.

"Fuck," he says giggling behind his hand.

"Oliver!" I hear a familiar voice in the distance. "Oliver, what are you-"

Fuck is right, it's de ja fucking vu.

"Bella!" Edward says smiling. He looks down to see the damage.

"Shit! Not this again!" he exclaims as he grabs Oliver.

"Ms. Swan! Order's up!"

I wipe at my black blouse and slacks frantically. At least with yesterday's spill it was at the end of the day on my way home. I'll smell like spoiled milk all day.

"Ms. Swan!" I hear again. _Shit_, I think wiping faster, attempting to soak up the remnants of liquid with the already dripping napkin.

It's as I'm doing this I hear it.

Stifled laughter.

"Let me…get you…a new…napkin," Edward manages to get out between laughs, his hand over his mouth so as not to appear rude, Oliver giggling right alongside him.

I glare at him when he returns. He thinks this is _funny_? I'm late for work and he's _laughing_?

I assess the situation and cannot help but find the humor in it as well. Edward offers to help carry the orders and by the time we leave Starbucks there's tears in my eyes from laughing so hard and I can't remember the last time I've had a good laugh. Or a laugh at all really, a true, genuine, hearty laugh.

Like his smile, Edward's laugh is infectious.

The building's two doors down and Edward and I make it to the top floor, but not after Oliver presses every button in the elevator making us hit every floor.

Edward gives him a stern look as Oliver grins and shrugs.

"What?" he asks innocently. " I wike the way the buttons gwow. 'Spretty."

As soon as the doors open we're bombarded and people are grabbing their drinks like crazy.

Cut to us post-caffeine-crazed-stampede as we stand in the elevator, empty cup cartons in hand. We as in Edward and I, Oliver, once again, nowhere to be found.

"Not this again," Edward sighs, the second time within half an hour, as we begin our trek to find Oliver.

Not after taking two steps do we hear Alice's sweet voice.

"Looking for this little guy?" she asks, raising Oliver's tiny arm, their pinkies intertwined.

"Oliver!" Edward says, rubbing his temples.

Oliver gives us a shy smile, lips quivering ever so slightly.

"I…sorry?"

"Just don't let it happen again," Edward and I chant.

He nods his head and begins to take in his surroundings, eyes wide.

Alice bends down to his eye-level.

"Would you like the grand tour?" she asks, to which Oliver nods his head vehemently. She looks to Edward for his approval and he nods his head in reply.

"Sure, just make sure to hold his hand _at all times_," he stresses.

Alice smiles widely, and then notices my rumpled appearance and crinkles her nose in distate.

"Bella! _What the hell_?"

"One guess," I tell her.

She smiles knowingly and claps her hands.

"Wardrobe change!"

--

So here I stand in her office, while she takes Edward and Oliver around for the _not-so-grand_ tour.

I look in the full-sized mirror and hold my breath as I take in my appearance.

I gawk at my reflection.

The skirt Alice threw at me is way too short, and _way_ too inappropriate for the workplace. The white blouse is this see-through material in which one would not need X-ray vision to see the red lace Angels bra underneath. Along with my black boots, I could pass for a hooker, I think.

Not really the look I'm going for.

_There's no way in hell I'm wearing this_.

If anyone's ever going to take me seriously, then I shouldn't give them the wrong impression.

I look longingly at my black blouse and pants.

Unbuttoning the thing Alice calls a shirt and putting it back on its hanger, I grab my blouse and head for her private bathroom as I hasten to wash the stench off with Dial. It'll be good as new once I put it under the hand dryer.

I continue scrubbing the soaked blouse and sniffing it, scrubbing and sniffing, scrubbing and sniffing.

The blast of the water is so loud that I don't hear the footsteps approaching until it's too late.

I hear someone clearing their throat.

I turn around and see not only Alice, Edward, and Oliver, but also Alice's editor.

_Just my luck_.

So much for not giving off the wrong impression.


End file.
